


The Cut of Your Jib

by notHarold



Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen, Grimmen AU, Ilia Attends Beacon, Physical Ab Appreciation, Public Service Announcement: Pyrrha Knows She’s Hot and Will Flirt Back Until You Melt Into a Puddle, Relationships May Change, Tags May Change, Visits to the Stations of Canon, Warnings May Change, i have plans but plans do not survive first contact
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:26:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22372534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notHarold/pseuds/notHarold
Summary: It is a dangerous thing to wear your heart on your sleeve. Teach it instead to freeze solid and sharp — to pierce others at your command.Remnant isn’t so nice a place that hunters can be relied upon to defend civilization. Not everyone in need of protection can afford the services of a hunter, a proper weapon, or dust. Sometimes all they have is their body, their aura, a will to survive, and a secret to using it.Also, Ilia attends Beacon Academy.
Kudos: 5





	The Cut of Your Jib

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on this AU for years; I still have no idea where I’m taking it. At least I have fun pieces to mess with.
> 
> Thanks to [vase](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vase/pseuds/vase) for beta reading. Check out his stuff! He's been working on [Caught in the Act](https://tumblingxelian.tumblr.com/post/190491799737) (what if Sienna was involved in RWBY's Vale arc) on Tumblr too!

"Goodbye, Adam." 

With a single slash, Blake broke the coupling. Adam reached out for her, but it was already too late. Without anything to pull the trailing cars close or push them forward, they began to drift away. The gap was too far to bridge. Maybe it always had been. If fate determined that they were to be, then they would meet again, but right then and there, Blake could not bear to be with him for a moment longer. 

She watched as Adam forced himself into a semblance of ease, resigned to their parting. She watched as he slowed and became a pinprick in the distance— until his petals gave way to the leaves of Forever Fall. Then, and only then, did Blake turn away. 

Only to come face to face with the disfigured faceplate of a grimm. 

Blake started— slipped back— tilted over the edge of the cargo car. The taste of blood filled her mouth. Her arms windmilled on reflex. Air resistance dragged her down. The train fled from under her feet. This was it. Fate determined that she and Adam were made for each other or never to be. 

Claws caught her wrist— pulled her close— held her tight as it twisted around, bodily shielding her from her fall. The taste of blood was only a rush of panic, and it remained just that. Blake found herself staring over a shoulder, back at the tracks, but now wrapped in a protective embrace. Slowly but surely, it guided her away from the trailing edge of the car. 

Once she was no longer in danger, the arms around her gingerly loosened and pulled away. Calmer now, Blake saw the grimm for what it was: a dirty mask, cracked and shoddily repaired, completely covering its wearer’s face. Unlike the masks worn in the White Fang, it seemed handmade and asymmetrical by design— warped, twisted, and snarling. If the masks of the White Fang marked its members taking on the role of monsters, then this one marked its wearer becoming a demon beyond redemption. A once-white coat so stained in places that it had almost become black completed the illusion of a battleworn grimm standing before her. Blake hoped it wasn’t blood that stained it so dark. She watched, frozen in place, as they slowly pulled their mask off. 

"Ilia?" Blake gasped. "I thought you were dead!" 

The girl smiled grimly and gestured— no, signed to her. When Blake failed to respond, Ilia seemed to realize her mistake. "I thought you didn't care about me," she croaked out, barely audible over the train and the forest passing them by. "I guess we were both wrong." 

Blake had no idea what to think. "I looked all over for you. Sienna did too." Blake had never before seen her godmother act like the way she had then. When she had asked Adam what had happened, she had him up on the wall. He had technically been responsible for Ilia. For both of them. And didn't that explain everything? "Where did you even go? Where have you been all these years?" 

Ilia let out a soft sound halfway between a laugh and a scoff. "I couldn't say," she answered. Blake would have thought it dismissive if she hadn't continued, "Everyone called it Mine 47. The nearest town is Frostdale." She snorted. "That's half a day away from there, even by bus." 

"You went to a mine? Weren't you scared you might…" Blake trailed off at Ilia's solemn nod. "Why?" 

"The mines always need workers. Retail didn't want a dirty orphan from outside the kingdom." Ilia shook her head. "It's fine," she continued before Blake could ask anymore of her. "I won't be working there anymore." Ilia shook her head. "Does the White Fang still operate on a tight schedule? Don't let me keep you here." 

"No, I…" Blake turned away. "I think I need to get away from them." From Adam. 

For a moment, Ilia chewed on the words. "Do you have somewhere to go? Someplace to stay?" 

Blake shook her head. "I'll figure something out." 

"I have an apartment," Ilia began slowly. "You're welcome to stay with me. I'm in the middle of applying to Beacon, so if you want space, I might not be around much in a few weeks." 

The mention of Beacon Academy started turning gears in Blake's head. "That sounds nice," she replied. "Actually, is it too late for me to apply to Beacon too?" 

* * *

Walking up the steps to Beacon Academy with Blake, Ilia couldn’t help but feel refreshed. Sure, she was a little old for the incoming class, but life happened. _Grimm_ happened. Late starts were hardly unheard of, and it wasn’t as though she had sat on her hands the entire time. She might not have been where she should have been for her age, but she could still learn and keep up with the incoming class. 

At least, she hoped she could. 

It had been awhile since she had been in school, and she had only attended Mantle Preparatory School. She had fought tooth and nail to be part of their top ten students, but that had been for her class, nearly a full three years shy of entering Atlas Academy’s primary combat education program. Atop that, Beacon hardly accepted transfers from either. The logical part of her mind reminded her that Atlesian students applying for a transfer were much fewer as compared to transfers from Vacuo, Mistral, Vale, and even Menagerie which further meant that the sample size was too small to be indicative of Ilia’s odds of making it through and succeeding. 

"Are you okay, Ilia?" Blake called back, pulling her from her worries. 

"Just caught up in my head," Ilia admitted as she hurried to catch up with her friend. "Honestly, I’ve been thinking about it too much, and I’ve probably thought about it enough that if I used that time and energy on learning, I’d have my hunting license right now." 

"Really?" 

"Okay, I’d be halfway through our first year— maybe a second year, but it’s been _enough_ ," Ilia groused. "I spend too much time staying up at night with this stuff. It sucks, and it doesn’t do anything except stop me from getting things done." She sighed before deflecting, "What about you? Ready for school?" 

"I’m excited for it," Blake confessed with a small smile. "It’s…different, new." She looked up to the school towering before them. "I mean, I do have some mixed feelings about it, but right now. I can’t help but feel happy." An explosion and screams filled with fury drained away what little joy she expressed. "It was nice while it lasted." 

They joined other prospective students, looking to see what caused the ruckus. Idle curiosity hooked them in. They just wanted a quick look. Then they found the Schnee snowflake branded across one girl’s back. That one detail reeled Ilia in before she could stop to think. The Schnee loomed over another girl, and for a brief moment, Ilia sank. A touch from Blake kept her from doing something rash. 

"Weiss Schnee," the faunus called, tearing the girl’s attention away from the target of her ire. Her eyes flickered over Ilia for a moment before returning to Blake. "You have better things to do than shout at a girl for setting off a dust reaction." Blake gestured down at the scattered cases branded with the same symbol on Weiss’ bolero. Oddly, the girl didn’t follow the motion, instead furrowing her brow and staring at Ilia. "Like, cleaning up the mess that let it happen in the first place." That got Weiss’ attention. "I’d expect better from the heiress of the Schnee Dust Company." 

"Are you blaming me for what this halfwit did?" she snapped back. "I did nothing wrong and look—" She gestured to the soot covering her then to the other girl who, aside from the detrus picked up from the path, was as clean as could be. " _I_ paid for _her_ mistakes." 

Ilia scanned the girls and the scattered belongings. "If you did nothing wrong, you could’ve dropped your dust out of an airship and nothing would’ve happened," she cut in. "There is only one person that is responsible for the safe handling and security of dust," Ilia intoned, even as she turned her attention further away, still not finding what may have caused the explosion from earlier. "That person is you, the owner." 

Weiss choked, "She—" 

"Unless she forced her way in or ignored clear, specific instructions as to the safe handling of your dust, what happened is your fault." Ilia stalked off, her head turned to talk over her shoulder even as she focused on the glint of a bottle. "And it is your fault." She snatched up the offending item from the edge of the path. While it was still stoppered and seemingly undamaged, a trickle of dust spilled out when Ilia upturned it over an open hand. "Negligent handling, specifically improper containment: if I were your supervisor and you weren’t a Schnee, this would be grounds to fire you on the spot, no questions asked." 

To the evidence before her and the sharp words, Weiss could only flush red. When Ilia offered her the bottle, she gingerly accepted it. "I’ll ensure that this won’t happen again," she promised. At that, she sped off without another word to any of them, not even an apology to the girl she was yelling at before. 

Blake watched Weiss for a moment before turning to Ilia with shock painted across her face. She gestured after the retreating heiress. Ilia shrugged, sparing the girl they saved a quick pat on the shoulder and said, "Stay safe and try to keep away from things that go boom." With that, she led Blake off and away from the girl. 

Not that she let them get away. 

"Thanks for sticking up for me," she said as she scrambled to keep from being left behind. 

"We couldn’t stand by and do nothing," Blake replied, raising her voice so that the bystanders that watched the whole matter play out could hear. "Anyone could’ve helped you instead of just loitering around." Everyone kept their eyes firmly averted from her. 

"Sure it could’ve been anyone, but it was the two of you, so thanks!" she insisted. "She wouldn’t let me say anything, but then you two came along and—" She muffled a squeal of delight. "I knew Beacon would be awesome, but I didn’t know I’d get cool upperclassmen too!" 

Though Blake took the mistake in stride, managing to give it an amused snort, Ilia stumbled. "Actually, we’re part of the incoming class," she corrected, earning herself a horrified look. She forged on, introducing herself to keep the girl from dwelling on her mistake, "Ilia Amitola, nineteen, but I’ll be a first year." 

"Blake Belladonna, seventeen," her friend cut in before the girl could make another mistake. 

"Oh wow, uh, Ruby Rose, fif— ah, fifteen," she responded shocked by her peers. 

The shock was mutual for Ilia. "You’re only fifteen?" she gaped. "That’s amazing! I was still taking prep classes at your age." She laughed. "Makes me wonder if, what's the local combat school? Signal? I wonder if their program is faster than Mantle Prep, and if I really needed those last couple of years." 

"Eh, I didn't think it was that fast or special?" Ruby gestured so-so. "I mean, all the big, important stuff I learned I got from my uncle, but he’s a teacher at Signal along with my dad so maybe I had a lot more help than the rest of my class. My sister taught me a little too." An idea struck her with sudden excitement. "Actually, if you want special, lemme show you my weapon!" She drew her weapon out, letting it unfold straight out to keep it out of their way. "This is Crescent Rose. Isn't she cool?" 

"That’s a scythe," Blake gawked while Ilia took in the weapon and how easily Ruby wielded it. "Isn’t that really hard to use?" 

"She’s also a sniper rifle," Ruby beamed. "She used to fight me a lot. It took forever for Qrow to teach me how to make her behave, but now it’s like she’s a part of me." She pulled it into a hug before letting it settle against her shoulder. "But yeah, I’m pretty sure that if my uncle wasn’t also one of my teachers, they would’ve told me to make a different weapon." She shook her head, casting away the sad alternative of having a different weapon. "What about the two of you?" 

"I’ve got uh—" Ilia started before realizing how close they were to the main building. "You may want to put your weapon away. It, uh, _she_ is kinda big. Wouldn’t want to make anyone nervous or bump anything, would you?" She smiled while she watched her young peer fumble with her weapon at the abrupt reminder. As they stepped inside, Ilia drew her weapon from its holster at the back of her waist, letting Ruby coo over its compact form. "It’s a collapsible epee-whip I’ve rigged to shoot electrical bolts. Maybe I can show it to you later." 

Blake brushed her hair aside, letting Ruby look at the obvious parts. "Katana-kusarigama," she elaborated. 

Ruby furrowed her brow. "Not katana-kama?" she checked, seeing only the pistol grip of Blake’s weapon and nothing for it to swing by. 

She presented the ribbon wrapped on her arm. "I keep the ribbon separate so it can’t catch on anything." 

"It’s also more fashionable," Ilia chimed in, earning a roll of Blake’s eyes for the effort. "No joke, there was a scout that tried to talk her into joining a modelling agency when we went out one time." 

"If I thought for a second that they would actually give me a good contract, I might’ve considered it," Blake noted as they joined the throng of students waiting for whatever came next. "I think I’d still choose Beacon, or any hunters’ academy really, but I’d have to think about it if I could get a safe job where I wouldn’t be talked down to for wanting to be treated fairly." Several nearby students turned to look at her with a frown. "Like that." She gestured for Ruby’s benefit. "That look that says I’m crazy for wanting things to be fair is why I’m here instead of looking for work in Vale and applying to college. I shouldn’t need to prostrate myself to somebody to get fair wages and work in reasonable conditions." 

"Yeah, piece of advice: if you ever look for work between terms, ask your friends and family first, then ask your local businesses, and save all the big names for last. The bigger, the later down on your list," Ilia added. "You’ll still only get offers for garbage jobs since they’ll only have you for a little bit, but they probably won’t treat you as bad and say it’s your fault that your best isn’t good enough." 

To that Ruby quirked a brow. "Isn’t it…" she trailed off as she thought about it. "So coming to Beacon is just learning stuff to get a better job for the two of you?" 

Ilia pursed her lips, at least trying to maintain a reasonably pleasant expression. "There’s more to it than that, but I think that covers our immediate concerns," she chuckled wryly. "What’s an ideal hunter? A slayer of grimm?" 

"Someone who makes the world a better place," Ruby replied. "I mean, yeah, slaying grimm usually, but not _just_ slaying grimm." She sighed. "I—" The girl groaned as she searched for her words. "Slaying grimm is important because they’re a threat to everyone, but even before that hunters are there to protect the people." She took a deep breath. "Sometimes the biggest monsters out in the world aren’t grimm. It’s a hunter’s purpose to keep everyone safe from them, whatever or whoever they are." 

"Whoa, who're you giving the hunter spiel to, Rubes?" 

The girls perked up, to find a blonde weaving her way over. Ruby recognized her, instantly attacking her with a hug and gushing about her brief stint with Ilia and Blake to her. Blake took the opportunity to sidle up beside Ilia and take in the crowded auditorium. 

"You’re being awfully friendly," she observed conversationally. "I didn’t expect you to spill your heart out to a stranger." 

To that, Ilia could only shrug. "Making friends is better than making enemies, and it’s too easy to make enemies," she stated. A frown crossed her face as the earlier incident bubbled up to the surface of her thoughts. "The Schnee doesn’t count. She was an enemy whether she knew it or not." Blake nodded, accepting that. A shock of white in the crowd caught Ilia’s eye. "And it's way too easy to…" She trailed off with a frown. 

The sharp stop caught Blake’s attention. Following Ilia’s gaze, she found Weiss cutting a path through the crowd with a blond on her heels. Judging from the scowl on her face, she wanted nothing to do with him. From the way he glanced over his shoulders, there was someone else to be concerned with, but the crowd obscured whoever it was. The blond reached out for Weiss, and for a moment, Blake’s heart leapt into her throat. The shock was wasted when the heiress shrugged off his touch and snapped something at him. Whatever she said shocked him to a halt, and she stormed off, free from his pursuit. 

"Something up?" the nearer blonde called, she tried to follow where the girls had looked, but there was nothing left to see. 

"It was nothing," Blake dismissed. 

"Maybe nothing," Ilia adjusted before turning to address her directly. "Anyway, hi. You mentioned sisters?" She gestured between the blonde and Ruby. When the blonde nodded, she gave them a thumbs up. "Cool." 

The blonde grinned. "Blake? Ilia?" she gestured at each in turn. When they confirmed that she got them right, she introduced herself. "I’m Yang Xiao Long. It’s nice to see my sister made good friends so soon." 

"It’s been our pleasure," Blake responded. 

Meanwhile, Ilia took a moment to squint at Yang. "Are you related to Taiyang? Or know him?" 

The sisters seemed taken aback by the question. Blake quirked a brow at her. 

"Yeah, that’s our dad," Yang replied, appraising Ilia. "Where’d you hear about him?" She frowned. "Actually, what did you hear about him?" 

Ilia waved dismissively. "It was from the guys I did martial arts with. I'm pretty sure they just don't get along with anyone that doesn't check all their boxes, so what they told me is probably a bunch of garbage," she answered with a shrug. "I mean, there's the obvious and expected stuff like being good at killing grimm and being _really_ good at fighting people, but the rest is probably rival school propaganda to convince me not to try and quit and learn from him." 

"Like what? How his style sucks?" 

"Like he's abusive and would teach me to kill and only kill." Ilia waved dismissively. "Seriously, it was garbage, and looking at the two of you, I'd think I'd be pretty safe calling it a lie. I just didn't expect to hear the Xiao Long name here." She furrowed her brow. "Then again, there’s a Schnee here, and we ran into her. What next? A Mistrali—" Ilia cut herself off, spotting a distinctive style of bronze armor ahead of her. She shook her head and sighed," With all this luck, I should’ve bought a lottery ticket." 

"Gambling is a trap," Ruby quipped. 

Ilia smiled. "You're right, I shouldn't press my luck." She turned to address Yang again, bowing and scraping with a loose outturned hand over her heart. "Anyway, it's nice to meet you, Yang." 

Yang quirked a brow at the gesture. "Likewise," she responded, awkwardly bobbing her head in a semblance of a bow. "If you want, I wouldn’t mind sparring sometime and talking shop. Dad taught me a lot of what I know, and honestly, there’s no big secret to the way either of us fight." 

Ilia gave her a crooked smile. "Sounds fun, I’ll have to take you up on that sometime." 

Movement from the stage and a small amount of feedback from the microphone drew everyone's attention. "I’ll keep this brief," Professor Ozpin began. "You have travelled here today in search of guidance: to follow your forebears and acquire a shadow of their experience, and when you have acquired a sense of their direction, you plan to dedicate your life to lighting the way for the people still lost in our haunted world." He paused casting his gaze out over the crowd of students before him. Something in his eyes felt like he was yearning to be proven wrong— that they were not what he was expecting. "But I look amongst you, and all I see is kindling ready to consume itself in a single blazing moment, leaving Remnant colder and darker than it was before." 

Ilia bristled, but she couldn’t find it in herself to argue the point. He wasn’t wrong. He had been proven right long before she had ever met him, and he had been proven right time and time again. It was only by luck and the grace of others that allowed her to get this far, and she was certain that it was true for most of her peers if not all of them. It was too easy to get caught up in the now to realize how futile an obvious choice could be. 

"You assume that our guidance will save you from that fate, but your time at this school will prove that we can only lead you so far— only show you so much," Professor Ozpin forged on, unaware or at least unconcerned by Ilia’s thoughts. "It is up to you to nurture your own light and discover what the world holds in store for you." 

With that, the headmaster nodded, satisfied, and walked away, leaving another staff member to instruct the crowd on how to proceed. As it turned out, they would be camping out in the ballroom and starting the next day rather than setting out immediately as Ilia had expected. 

"That…was depressing," Ruby commented as they began to shuffle off. "It’s almost like he doesn’t want us to be here and learn." 

Blake, Ilia, and Yang shared a look. 

"I think…" Yang hesitating for a second. "It's like Professor Coiro from Signal. He's being mean so that we fight him harder— to prove him wrong. Make us angry at him and do our best to make him treat us nice." She grimaced. "Which is dumb, even if it works." Yang shook her head. "He called us kindling— firestarter, and he threw a spark at us. We light easy, but if there's more to us that the kindling he saw, we'll start a bigger fire." She shrugged. "Or he's telling us to chill out and not burn so fast and hot that we end up not doing anything." 

"Another way to look at it is we’d be gone or at least irrelevant even if we do start a fire," Blake chimed in. "He could be saying that we won't be able to control what happens after we do something." She paused. "Sometimes we'll believe what we're doing is good, and if we look at just that, maybe it is, but we aren't isolated. We could get caught up doing things we don't mean or means something bad happens to someone else." 

"Even if they're the ones guiding us, we'll be the ones doing things, and we'll have to take responsibility," Ilia added with a somber smile. "The meaner way of saying it is that our problems aren't their problems." She shrugged. "But I wouldn't be surprised if he had some bad memories creep up on him when he was making his speech— dead friends and family— so I wouldn’t blame him for saying scary stuff. Being a hunter _is_ dangerous, even for veterans." 

Ruby pouted, but nodded, accepting the explanation for what it was and leaving it be. They still had things to do. 

* * *

Getting settled in the ballroom took almost no time. The staff member that led the congregation there handed out several meager pamphlets and outlined the expectations Beacon had for them. She told them important facts like when the cafeteria would open for dinner and close, the location of the weapon lockers they were permitted to use for the time being, and where the nearest restrooms were. She also reminded them that failure to complete initiation was not the same as failing to attend it. Only one of those actions would lead to attendance in Beacon’s secondary education program. With that, she left the students to their devices. It was still well before time to eat dinner, much less go to bed. 

Almost immediately after finding a place to settle down, Blake had buried her nose in a book, having expended the majority of her social energy and needing time to recharge while she had the opportunity. Ruby had managed to weedle her way beside her, and to Ilia’s surprise, convinced Blake to let her read alongside. Yang lingered for a little with Ilia, both making sure the pair got along before splitting off, Yang to talk with her friends and Ilia to get a bead on what the rest of the incoming class was like. 

Several students were still dealing with their combat equipment. Ilia expected that the heavily armored Mistrali and the Schnee would be among the last to return. She had noticed few if any other notable oddities among the class. She was among them, opting to keep her weapon on her and skipping past the weapon lockers. Yang had done the same. A particularly tall boy brandished a mace openly, even after opting to stow the armor he had worn, but that was all that stood out to her. 

Ilia could pick out old friend groups— small congregations that gelled together without any awkward introductions. She gave them waves when they noticed her, quick hellos if they seemed welcoming enough, but didn’t dare to join them for long. They were comfortable with each other, already gossipping about what their initiation would entail and sharing the hope that they would not be split across the primary and secondary class. It warmed her heart to watch them and she let them revel amongst themselves. 

Her heart cracked just when a particularly large group broke apart, scattering wide. If Ilia had her attention elsewhere, she would never have noticed. Its pieces quickly integrated with existing groups, leaving no trace that there had been anyone around a vaguely familiar-looking girl who clutched her bag tight to her chest. When she noticed Ilia’s gaze and approach, she scowled and plopped down. 

"If you’re here for booze, I don’t have any," she snapped low, keeping even a hint of her smuggling reputation from spreading any further than it had to. "Even I’m not ballsy enough to bring some in on the first day." At Ilia’s quirked brow, she laughed, "What? Did Connor convince you that I’d have some? Hear Viola sing praises and say that I could work miracles?" 

"I was just wondering what happened with all your friends." Ilia raised her hands in her defense. "But I guess, they weren’t really friends, were they?" The girl grimaced, turning her amber eyes away, and shrugged. "Sorry about that. I’ll…" She bit her cheek. She was already here. Did she really want to just leave her alone? "I’m Ilia." 

"Lillian," the girl responded dully. "Thanks for the condolences, and sorry for snapping at you." She snorted. "I’m usually stocked and fine with sharing, but it’s _Beacon_. I didn’t want to get booted out on day one for something stupid." She rolled her eyes. "Not that I really had to worry. Did you look at what they call a student handbook?" 

Ilia furrowed her brow. "They already gave us the handbook?" She recalled the tome that she had when she attended Mantle Prep. It was worse than the sum of the rest of her supplies at the time. 

With a laugh, Lillian produced one of the tri-fold pamphlets they have been given. "That’s what it says it is," she said as she offered it to Ilia and gestured for her to sit down. "Apparently the teachers don’t give a crap as long as we don’t make Beacon look bad and are ready to fight grimm." She cocked her head and conceded, "I’d have to buy an extra bottle or split what I have to pay a tax to the school, but otherwise they’re really lenient." 

Scanning other the rules, Ilia could only laugh. "This is insane," she cackled. "I mean, if I weren’t worried about how the staff makes their judgements for what’s right and wrong, I’d say that this is basically paradise." 

"I mean, it’s pretty clear," Lillian began, counting off the gist of the rules on her fingers. "Be ready to fight grimm, don’t interfere with others’ ability to fight grimm, don’t make life worse for others, and pay your taxes on these items." 

"What qualifies as interference and worse though?" Ilia pointed out. "There are cases where similar actions and situations resulted in different verdicts and even different sentences." She let out a huff. "Officially, the differences are based on the presiding judge and careful weighing of circumstances, but there are other trends that can be traced." 

Lillian frowned. "Are your parents in law?" she asked. "I'd expect that kind of thinking from a would-be lawyer or maybe an activist or something." She chewed on the idea for a minute.. "Did you ever consider going to university? Just a thought." 

"I would've if I could've," Ilia grumbled. "What about you? Did you ever consider the civilian track? College? University? Vocational school?" 

Lillian stopped short. "Yes and no?" she ventured. "I like the idea of having a safe and stable job, but I've seen what it did to my older sister. It's not worth it." She scowled. "I mean, it is worth it, but it's not a price I think I could live with." A bark of laughter slipped out. "And maybe I’m a little too gay for the good of Remnant?" 

"Your gay talked you into combat school?" Ilia guessed. 

Lillian inhaled. "Girls hot." 

"Girls hot," Ilia agreed, nodding at the sage words and earning herself a pair of finger guns. 

"Yeah! I learned that early, and I didn’t hate combat courses." Lillian smirked. "And it helped convince girls that I’m hot so…" 

"Be around hot girls, be a hot girl, bring home the stacks of lien, what’s not to love?" 

"Exactly!" Something caught Lillian's eye, and she perked up. "And if I maybe get the chance to confirm if Pyrrha Nikos has an eight-pack, so much the better." 

"Who?" 

The question dropped Lillian’s jaw and dragged her attention back to the girl in front of her. "You don’t know?" she gawked. She scooted closer to help point Ilia’s attention in the right direction. "She’s the reigning champion of the Mistral Tournament Circuit! She hasn’t lost once since she started competing— I mean, she can’t compete anymore since she’s here, but—" She shook her head. "Super tall redhead next to the short girl in all white. Can’t miss her." 

Lillian was right: Ilia couldn’t miss her. She couldn’t even be angry at the Schnee next to her. Pyrrha Nikos was gorgeous. Some things were just universal— like the wave of people turning to look at the pair making their way in and looking for a place to settle down in. 

"You said she has an eight-pack?" Ilia checked. 

"I _heard_ she has an eight-pack," Lillian corrected. "I don’t know it, but I definitely think it." She frowned when Ilia got up. "Wait, what are you— Where are you going?" 

"I’m going to go ask her instead of staring at her." If she was honest, it made her feel like a creep. 

While Lillian sputtered behind her, Ilia strode over. For a moment, she thought about how she would broach the topic, but dismissed the thought of anything fancy or coy. She told Lillian she was going to be direct so she may as well pull out all the stops and get straight to the point. That left her more than enough time to observe the girls she approached. 

For her part, Pyrrha seemed polite. It felt maybe a little too polite for Ilia’s eyes, reminding her of herself when she posed as a human in Atlas, but she couldn’t dismiss the idea that she was just unused to politeness separate from disdain or submission. Both felt wrong for what Ilia saw. Weiss seemed happy to talk to Pyrrha, if a little reserved. Did she have a crush on her? Was Pyrrha just too nice to reject her? 

The Schnee reacted to Ilia’s approach first, stiffening and losing some of the cheerful light that had been in her eyes in favor of something Ilia couldn’t quite place. "Hi— ah, hello," she greeted her meekly, drawing Pyrrha’s attention over to her as well. "I’ve secured my dust if that’s what you’ve come for." 

Ilia bit her lip. There went her plan. "I’m glad to hear it, but no." Pyrrha’s expression turned plastic at the reply and curdled when Ilia looked her in the eyes. "I’m here because my new friend and I are gay and want to know if you have an eight-pack." 

Both girls stared at Ilia as though she had grown a second head. At least her response had wiped the fake smile off of Pyrrha’s face. The meek demeanor didn’t suit the Schnee either, and Ilia felt relieved to see it go. She could feel others gaping at her. 

"Do you even know who she is?" Weiss asked incredulously. 

"Uh, Pyrrha Nikos, champion fighter from Mistral, maybe rich and famous…" Ilia grimaced and shrugged, stealing whatever weight the description might have had even in her casual tone. "I’m just repeating what my friend said. I’ve literally lived off-grid for the better part of the past five years, and I’ve only really cared about the dust market, work, and the finer parts of Vale like—" She turned, cupping her hands around her mouth. "Maple Mounds ice cream parlor on the corner of Maple and Third Ave!" 

"Fill your mouth full of milky melty mountains!" Yang cheered. One of her friends dropped her head into her hands. Another shook her head and turned away in a poor attempt to feign not knowing her. 

Pyrrha snorted while the Schnee gaped at Ilia. "That was so corny," the latter commented. "I can’t believe—" A giggle snuck out and broke her composure. Weiss shook her head, smiling in spite of herself. "Were you and that girl paid to say that?" 

"Nope, we just have good tastes in local ice cream," Ilia grinned. "But back to what I was saying, I don’t know Pyrrha, but I do know that I want to find out if she’s shredded. I mean, look at her arms." To her delight, Pyrrha played along with a mischievous smile on her face, drawing her sleeves back and flexing for Weiss, blowing her eyes wide open. "Not every hunter has arms that look like they could snap you in half." 

For contrast, Ilia tried to flex. Even after a solid year on an improved diet, she hadn’t quite built up the muscle mass people expected from a hunter. She might have looked good to a civilian, but she doubted she would look quite as good to a hunter. It wasn’t bad, but she simply could not compare. Even so, Weiss squeaked at the comparison. "I can’t tell if she has the abs to match. Someone had to bite the bullet, walk up, and ask." In a hushed voice, she checked with Pyrrha, "Is this awkward for you? In front of everyone? I can stop." 

"I don’t mind this. I think I like a little daring," she smirked. "Besides, you’re both cute." 

Weiss murmured something. Ilia put it down as verbal keysmash given her now glowing face. Her own internal keysmash agreed that it was the most likely thing. It was almost cute when she tried to hide her face, her eyes flickering between them. She jerked her attention back to Ilia, resting it on her. She wondered why before realizing that she must have changed colors. For what it was worth, Pyrrha didn’t seem to mind. 

Ilia coughed, eager to get the Schnee’s attention off of her. "Thanks, beautiful." Pyrrha rolled her glittering eyes at the compliment. She must have heard it thousands of times before— she must have had that exchange before, but Ilia couldn't feel bad about repeating it. It was worth saying again. "I’m glad to hear I’m not crossing lines." 

"Oh, you are, but only the ones I want crossed." 

Pyrrha giggled when Ilia’s internal keysmash began to spill out. In the end, it was all Ilia could do to babble out, "Abs?" 

"Oh right, you wanted to know if I had an eight-pack," Pyrrha laughed as though only just remembering why Ilia had approached her. "I’ve never paid attention so I can’t be sure." She lifted the hem of her shirt up, smirking. Ilia wanted to call her out on her lie. She knew it. She knew it without a doubt. She knew she had eight-pack abs, and she still asked, "Do I?" 

For a moment, Ilia didn’t dare to break Pyrrha’s gaze. Maybe that was a mistake. Pyrrha waggled her brow, it was an invitation and challenge all in one. Well, she did say that Ilia only crossed the lines she wanted. Ilia hummed as she slowly dragged her gaze down. Pyrrha wasn’t shy, and she made no move to stop Ilia when she brought her hand up. Did she imagine Pyrrha leaning closer? Maybe she was just adjusting how she flexed. 

"Here’s one," Ilia began, resting the pads of her fingers on Pyrrha’s abs as she counted them off. "Two." She kept in firm contact, dragging her hand over to fully appreciate the work Pyrrha put in to define her muscles and make them pop. "Three." It seemed as though she wasn’t ticklish, or maybe Ilia’s bold pressure and deliberate motion kept Pyrrha from reacting. "Four." A questioning glance up confirmed that Pyrrha had no problem with Ilia’s touch progressing onward— lower. "Five." Distantly, she lamented that Pyrrha’s waistband covered any hint of another row, and Ilia wasn’t going to push her way onward. "Six." She pulled back. It was done. She could go melt in private soon. "Impressive, but—" 

Pyrrha smirked and tucked a thumb under her waistband. She tugged it just low enough to reveal the last two muscles. "I think you missed something." 

"I did," Ilia agreed, replacing her hand where it had left off on Pyrrha. This girl was going to murder her right then and there, and Ilia was going to thank her for it. She shivered as she continued her count, "Seven." Pyrrha didn’t give her much room. Her fingers were right up against her waistband. They were threading a line and by coincidence or Pyrrha’s design, Ilia’s hand ended up over hers. "Eight." 

Mechanically, Ilia turned to call out, "The rumors were true, Lillian! Pyrrha has an eight pack!" 

It felt like a weight was lifted from her shoulders as eyes turned to the girl in question. Then Pyrrha took her hand and gently steadied her by the shoulder. "Would you introduce me to your friend?" she asked when Ilia turned back to her. "I’d love to thank her for egging you on." 

"I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to meet you," Ilia chuckled. She spared a glance over to the Schnee, wondering if she would come paired with Pyrrha. It would be nice to not need to deal with her. Part of her hoped that she would go somewhere else for a time. 

A flicker of emotion fled the girl's face when Ilia's eyes caught hers. It schooled into a semblance of calm in spite of the flush set there by the performance she just witnessed. "Do enjoy yourselves," she said to Pyrrha. "I need to do a few things." The taller girl tilted her head in question, though the Schnee blazed on. "I'll see you later, Pyrrha, Miss." 

Ilia quirked a brow at her hasty retreat. Pyrrha kept her from dwelling on it, tapping her shoulder. "So, your friend?" she prompted with a soft smile. 

It was about then that it registered to Ilia that a very pretty girl was holding her hand. "Right. This way," she said while her faculties ran aground. It was a short walk, but she found herself losing to the feeling of Pyrrha's hand in her own. By the time they arrived, Ilia was running on the fumes of her functional lesbian energy and had to introduce Lillian in a daze before excusing herself to lay face down on the floor as the full weight of what happened rammed into her. She needed a minute. 

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t study anatomy or anything. I only learned while asking "does Pyrrha need to mess with her waistband for Ilia to get those last two abs?" that the difference between six and eight (and two and four and ten) is genetics and not diet, training, or lower or higher muscles. Then again, maybe Pyrrha just has slightly high-waisted pants on.


End file.
